


Dying is Not Romantic

by teddy_stonehill



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 10:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20226736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddy_stonehill/pseuds/teddy_stonehill
Summary: As Shamir and Catherine meet on the battlefield, they both know that this moment was inevitable. But even as they clash, Shamir is struck by the notion that, in another universe, maybe something else might have been inevitable.Based on the dialogue if Shamir and Catherine are on opposites sides of the war and forced to fight each other, and the A+ support dialogue between them if they're on the same side.





	Dying is Not Romantic

> _“There must have been a moment, at the beginning, where we could have said no. But somehow we missed it.”_
> 
> -Tom Stoppard, _Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead_

The battlefield was cloaked in fire. Houses, already made ruins by the war, were now made kindling. One final transformation before they became nothing but ash. And yet, oblivious to the flame, the battle raged on, each fighter deeming the glint of light on metal a more substantial threat than the pressing heat.

Shamir stood, a pillar of flame behind her, breathing.

_ In through the nose. Out twice through the mouth. In, out-out. In, out-out._

Breathing this way helped keep her mind centered, her aim true, and her presence invisible. It took an incredible amount of self-control, something which Shamir had in abundance. The battlefield was chaos, movement, noise, and yet Shamir stood in it as a monument to quiet stillness. The battle flowed around her like a river around a stone. 

At the moment, her bow was held slack in her hands as she scanned the faces of the fighters around her. She was looking for someone.

It was not hard to find her. Thunderstrike Catherine was loudness personified. Every step she took shouted her presence. Every swing of her sword demanded your attention. She made herself a target, not because she was reckless, but because she knew she could take a hit and deal it back tenfold. Currently, she was surrounded by enemies—a heavily-armored ax wielder, a dark magic user, a bowman. None of them lasted long against her.

Catherine was always highly visible on a battlefield. Shamir was never seen unless she chose to be.

As the bowman fell, Catherine pulling her sword back out of his broken chest, Shamir lightly stepped forward, and called out. “Hello, Catherine.” Her voice was calm, but loud enough to be heard above the din of battle.

Catherine turned to face her, blood-covered sword held at her side. For a moment, her eyes went wide in surprise. She glanced down at Shamir’s bow, still held slack.

Shamir breathed_. In, out-out._

“I always knew this day would come,” said Shamir.

Catherine smiled. “What a coincidence, so did I. It seems that now we have no choice.” She shook her head, the way she always shook her head. It was a casual gesture. Amused. Dismissive. “We have nothing in common,” she continued. “Not our background, not our beliefs.”

“Not the way we lived…” said Shamir, frowning. “Or the way we’ll die.”

Catherine laughed. “That’s not fair! You always get to say the cool lines. Even in the end…”

The end.

A pause. Then Catherine moved to heft her sword, but before she could complete her stance, Shamir’s had already loosed an arrow. The arrow pierced through the bottom of Catherine’s neck, just above her collarbone, a vulnerable spot left exposed by her armor.

Shamir was a sniper. She normally killed impersonally, from a distance. But this time she was close enough to see the spurt of blood as the arrow found its mark, and she stepped closer still as Catherine dropped her sword, and fell on her back.

Shamir breathed. _In, out-out._

Catherine was struggling for breath. From this distance, Shamir could see Catherine’s blonde hair, damp with sweat, clinging to her face. Shamir kneeled over her, close enough to hear the sputtering gasps. From this distance, she could feel the warmth of Catherine’s blood as it spilled and smell the iron tang of it. Catherine’s eyes met Shamir’s.

Before Shamir could read the thought in Catherine’s eyes, the life drained out of them, and she stopped gasping. Shamir stopped breathing, too, just for a moment, as if Catherine’s spirit had knocked the wind out of her on its way to the next world.

Shamir had just lost another partner.

Many people thought that Shamir was emotionless, or that she had no personality. They thought of her as a ruthless mercenary, cool and in control, always detached, always ready to move on. No loyalty. No heart.

_This was inevitable_, she told herself. Each of them had known this day would come, when they would be forced by circumstance to stand against each other—an immovable object versus an unstoppable force. They had had no choice.

Not now. Not here. But Shamir was struck by the notion that maybe there had _been_ a choice, at some point. A choice they could have made, or that someone else could have made, months ago or years ago, before they were born even, that would have prevented this one?

Shamir was gripped by a vision, then. Or if not a vision, perhaps a daydream, or a wish. An out of character fanciful notion. A glimpse into another world where something else had been inevitable. A world where the inexorable march of fate had led to a different outcome, equally as predetermined, and yet so far from this world, this fate, that it was barely recognizable.

_ Shamir and Catherine stand together in a hallway in Garreg Mach. Here, the passage of time has brought them closer together instead of splitting them apart. They discuss their relationship, showing a level of openness and straightforward honesty neither of them knew they were capable of. Catherine expresses her fear of losing Shamir, and Shamir opens up to her._

_ “Catherine, I have to tell you something. I… lost my first partner,” says Shamir. “Which is why I can make no guarantees that this will last forever, but I want you to know there’s no one I would rather have at my side. I would never sever my bond with you. If there comes a day when our paths do diverge, know that I’ll always be with you.”_

_ Catherine nods, a soft smile on her lips. “Thank you,” she says, then she frowns. “I lost someone, too. I thought we’d be together forever, but our lives went in different directions. Relationships are so fragile.”_

_ “Of course…” says Shamir. Compelled to lighten the mood, she adds. “But that’s enough of that. I can’t stand any more of your vulnerable side.”_

_ Catherine laughs. “Ah! Sorry, partner. Hope I didn’t worry you. I lost hold of myself there.”_

_ “No need to apologize. It’s what partners are for.” Shamir has a thought, and smirks. Catherine will be shocked out of her mind, but Shamir, always the picture of self-control, keeps her tone casual so as not to give the game away. She breathes—_in, out-out._ And then she speaks again. “If you’d like, we can start planning our next move.”_

_ “Next move?” says Catherine, her brow knotting together in confusion. “What do you mean?”_

_ Shamir strikes what for her is a coy pose, lifting one hand to her face, leaning on one side. “We can wed if you’re worried about losing me,” she says. “Though I may tire of your company.”_

_ Just as Shamir predicted, Catherine is struck speechless, staring at Shamir with her mouth hanging open._

_ Shamir is exultant, triumphant, and she smirks wider. “You look a bit red,” she says. “What’s the matter, partner?”_

_ Catherine sputters. “That was just… unexpected! If you’ll excuse me, I need some fresh air…”_

_ Shamir follows her out to the courtyard, and once Catherine has calmed down, there’s an acceptance, and a kiss. And together they begin to plan their next move._

Shamir saw this scene in a flash, and just as quickly, it was over and gone. In this world, Shamir had severed her bond with Catherine. In this world, their paths had diverged. In this world, their lives went in different directions. In this world, they lost each other.

Shamir breathed. _In—_

It only takes Shamir a moment to collect herself and regain control after Catherine’s death. But it only takes the enemy sniper a moment to get in position and loose his arrow.

In the end, they do have one thing in common. The way they died.

In another world, _wedding bells ring._

**Author's Note:**

> My initial idea with this was to do an entire Sliding Doors concept where I wrote a longer story, showing how their relationship develops both in the world where they ultimately face each other on the battlefiled and the world where they ultimately get married. However, I know I have no patience for writing long fic, so I wrote this shorter version instead. Still, I specifically set this up so that it could work as the intro for a longer fic where I then jump back in time and show the lead up to this moment, so I may or may not continue this at some point.


End file.
